Fleeing Night
by Astra H. Lowelle
Summary: Draco returns home from his failed mission.


When Narcissa heard the sharp knock at the door, she hadn't wanted to move for fear of what Severus would bring with him.

Then the doe Patronus had come into her bedroom and informed her that Draco was back, stunned and numb, but safe.

She had wept upon hearing that. The Patronus had then dissolved into a small glass vial and a note written in the familiar cramped, tiny handwriting. She picked them both up in shaking hands, read the note's instructions, and heaved herself to her feet to go and find her son.

The first thing Draco did after Snape had left was go straight into the first bathroom he saw, where he collapsed, heaving and retching over the sink for a quarter of an hour straight.

Once he had finished, he struggled upright again, stumbling instinctively down to one of the only places in the manor that held any comfort for him.

Narcissa knew he wouldn't have gone to his room, so she went downstairs and checked one of the linen closets. It was one of the smallest areas in the house, and it was where Draco used to go when he was little and wanted to recover from a disappointment or a loss or something of that sort. It was also, she knew, where he kept the stuffed dragon he'd received when he was three, though he didn't know she knew he still had it.

He was there, curled up in the far corner of the closet beneath one of the shelves, hugging the stuffed dragon tightly to his heaving chest.

"Draco?" she said softly.

He raised his head an inch or so with a terrified whimper that broke her heart.

"I brought you something from Sev- Professor Snape."

Another soft whimper.

"It's a potion for dreamless sleep. He wants you to take it all."

No reaction.

Narcissa bent down and reached into the closet, putting a hand on her son's shoulder. He was taut and stiff, trembling as she made contact.

But he didn't pull away.

Tentatively, she crawled into the closet and held out her arms.

Lucius paced a room upstairs, around and around and around. Something had gone very, very, very wrong tonight. He had felt his Mark burn, but as he had no wand he did not leave the manor, secreting himself in the cavernous library and hoping Narcissa would leave him alone. He didn't want to think about what was happening at Hogwarts or, indeed, anywhere or anything that didn't have to do with The Complete Astronomical Works of Hesper Starkey.

He was halfway through the first and admittedly tedious volume when he slammed the book shut and stalked out of the library, ascending and descending random flights of stairs and marching up and down miscellaneous hallways, trying to take his mind off of Hogwarts and the fact that Narcissa was crying her eyes out upstairs.

When he had heard the strident knock on the front door, he'd gone into an empty room and locked himself in, where he'd paced around and around for about an hour.

Finally, with a deep sigh, Lucius unlocked the door with a tap of his wand and went to find his son.

And his wife, of course, because Narcissa would be wherever Draco was.

He reached Draco's room and rapped sharply on the door.

There was no answer. The door was unlocked. The bed was neatly made, and nothing was disturbed. Where _was_ the boy?

He _was_ numb, Narcissa realized as she held her quaking son tightly in her arms. She rubbed his back, remembering how she had done this very thing years ago. He was taller and broader now, of course, but he still fit into her embrace.

They remained like that for a few minutes until he had calmed somewhat, and then Narcissa gently pried him from her and picked up the potion vial. He looked at it, his eyes enormous and unresponsive, and she helped him drink the liquid inside before pulling him back against her, his head drooping onto her shoulder as she began to hum an old forgotten lullaby from years past.

Lucius stomped down the last few steps in a toweringly foul mood. He knew Draco had come back, he _knew_ it, but he couldn't find hide nor hair of the boy.

Thinking that this would be the very last place he looked before giving up entirely, Lucius grabbed the handle of the old linen closet and jerked the door open.

Narcissa was there, holding Draco's limp form in her arms, stroking his hair and humming softly.

"_Narcissa!"_

Her head jerked upward at the hissed sound; Draco's did not. He drew in a deep breath. "What are you _doing_ down here?"

Lucius's white face contrasted strongly with his dark clothes, pale hair spilling over his shoulders. Narcissa held her son tighter, wanting somehow to shield him from any unpleasantness Lucius might bestow, but he was already fast asleep. "I came to find our son, Lucius."

Her husband knelt down so as to see her more clearly. "In a _linen_ closet?"

"Yes, Lucius, in a linen closet."

He took in the sight. "Is he sleeping, or dead?"

Narcissa drew in a breath. "He's sleeping."

Still on his knees, Lucius entered the cramped space, reaching out a hesitant hand to touch his son's back. "Good."

The sun had barely risen when the house-elf Damsy awoke, stretching and yawning and rubbing her big brown eyes. It was a glorious new day, yes it was, with floors to sweep, windows to wash, silver to polish, breakfast to be made, and several bedrooms to be cleaned and set up as per Master's request a few nights ago.

She tottered out of the small cupboard that served as her bedroom, straightening her pillowcase as she went. She would attend to breakfast first, oh yes, and then set up the new rooms and polish the silver so well Mistress could check her reflection in the surfaces.

Breakfast was done in a twinkling, just how Master liked it, and then it was on to the bedrooms. But oh dear, those bed linens would have to be washed and replaced. Damsy shuddered at even the thought of allowing guests into the manor without perfect bed linens.

She made her quiet way downstairs to the linen closets. Oh dear, this one needed to be restocked; she would attend to that later. She moved on. Perhaps _this_ closet would yield-

Damsy stifled a gasp at the sight of her master, mistress, and young master all squeezed up underneath a shelf, huddled together in sleep, with a stuffed dragon lying on the floor beside them.

She closed the door quietly and padded away, deciding to head back up to the kitchen to prepare an extra breakfast for Young Master, though why he was home instead of at school Damsy didn't know.

But it was not her place to question, oh no it was not, and questions didn't get breakfast made.


End file.
